


No Good Deed

by 94BottlesOfSnapple



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Episode: s03e03 No Good Deed, Epistolary, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Love Confessions, M/M, Mentions of alcoholism, Possibly Unrequited Love, Post-Episode: s01e08 The Defenders, Season/Series 03, Voicemail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:54:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24898759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/94BottlesOfSnapple/pseuds/94BottlesOfSnapple
Summary: Foggy leaves Matt voicemails even after he's gone.
Relationships: Matt Murdock & Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Comments: 16
Kudos: 60





	No Good Deed

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote this last month for one of the writing challenges on the Team Red discord server. This one was to do a piece that was primarily dialogue, with as little descriptive prose as possible.
> 
> It gets a little dark, there is a mention of an OD on sleeping pills, just... You know, be cautious.

**You have twenty-five new messages.**

**First message, sent March 22nd 2016 at 1:35am.**

“It’s Foggy. ... I don’t know why I said that, you’d know anyway. Actually I don’t even know why I’m doing this at all. I mean. I literally have your phone sitting right here next to me. I  _ know _ you’re not going to get this. But seriously? A fucking  _ building _ , Matt? Jesus. You let a whole entire building fall on you, and I don’t even have the security of knowing you didn’t have a choice! I just have to  _ sit here  _ wondering if you  _ chose _ to stay down there! If you wanted to die, or if you wanted to be with Elektra more than you wanted to live. I gave you that fucking armor because I knew you’d go even without it and I wanted you to  _ live _ , you selfish jackass! I mean, did you ever even consider, for one second, what it’ll do to me and Karen and Claire and those superpowered assholes you teamed up with? Did you not even think about how your actions would affect people,  _ as per fucking usual _ , or did you know and just not care? It’s genuinely a tossup, they’re equally likely routes for your self-important jackassery! God you’re lucky you’re dead because otherwise I’d kick your ass! Did you ever even care at all? Ten fucking years of my life, Matt, and I thought we were in it together, I thought—”

**Second message, sent March 22nd 2016 at 1:37am.**

“It’s funny, I redialed because I wanted to keep yelling at you for being an idiot but it’s kind of hard to keep my momentum going after that voicemail recording. I seriously can’t believe you kept that all these years. I can’t— ... God, you know, I thought I had more distance from you than this. I thought when we closed the firm, that was the most I’d ever let you hurt me. I thought that was it, we’d made a clean break and it  _ sucked _ but we were finally on even ground again. I wasn’t putting too much into a relationship that you weren’t invested in at all. We could be, I don’t know, drinking buddies. Acquaintances. Whatever the hell it was you wanted us to be instead of best friends. But then you dragged me right back into it, and I lost my freaking head again. I brought you that stupid armored fetish gear. I called you my family. And then you turned around and ditched me again. I... I don’t even know what I expected. God. ... What do you care though? You don’t have to deal with it. Lucky bastard.”

**Third message, sent March 24th 2016 at 3:12am.**

“Hey, it’s Foggy. I know it’s not my business anymore, but I. I had a nightmare where you— Well, nevermind about what. Just woke up nervous, I guess. You don’t have to call back but. I dunno, text me a 1 or something if you haven’t been shoved off a rooftop.”

**Fourth message, sent March 24th 2016 at 9:20am.**

“I don’t know how I forgot you’re... Forgot that you... I guess it hasn’t sunk in yet. They’re still excavating Midland Circle. Jones promised to let me know if they find your, uh. Your body. I should tell Ma and Pop and Theo — they all loved you like family. But I. I can’t. Not yet. If by any miracle you’re somehow still out there, don’t leave me hanging, man, ok?”

**Fifth message, sent March 29th 2016 at 12:56am.**

“Fuck you, Murdock. I hope the afterlife fucking sucks you self-sacrificing bastard.”

**Sixth message, sent March 29th 2016 at 1:04am.**

“God, don’t listen to me, I’m a dick and I have had three. Five? A whole fucking... Hand of whiskey. Two hands. I don’t hope the afterlife sucks. I hope it’s wonderful. I hope you’re finally happy. I hope you’re with your dad again, buddy. You did— You were so good, even when I wanted to punch you for being a sanctimonious asshole. You deserve nice things for once. I tried to give them to you while you were here but I guess I didn’t do a very good job.”

**Seventh message, sent March 30th 2016 at 12:21pm.**

“It’s Foggy again. I’m not even drunk this time — though, trust me, I want to be. I don’t know why I called. Just like to hear myself talk, I guess. I, um. ... I went back to Columbia this morning. Professor Thompson wanted me to speak to her class about working at HCB. She, uh, she asked about you afterwards and I actually managed to tell her we’d lost touch with this bland little smile on my face like I didn’t even, like I didn’t— ... Anyway, just. I’m supposed to be finishing up my lunch break, so I can’t. Can’t start crying now, I. You know me, I’m an ugly crier, I won’t be able to clean my face up in ten minutes, so I’ll... I’ll let you go for now.”

**Eighth message, sent April 1st 2016 at 7:35am.**

“Today would be a great day for you to pop up and tell me you’re ok like a jerk. I think I might take a swing at you, but you’re the one with the coordination and the arm muscles so you could probably catch it. It, uh, it’s only been like. A week and a half. Isn’t that nuts? It feels like forever, but things have also been kind of a blur. I’ve been really drunk, um. A lot. Heh. But you know me, liver of steel, I’ll be. Fine. I’ll be fine. Still no news from Jones, and sometimes it makes me think... I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.”

**Ninth message, sent April 4th at 1:41pm.**

“Claire and Luke came around today. I think they could tell I wasn’t really fit for company. They brought lunch, though, from that Thai place we used to eat at all the time. You remember? ... I had another nightmare last night. I probably look totally undead but who the hell cares, right? ... I can actually afford therapy now, and it doesn’t even do me any good because I can’t tell anyone about you being Daredevil. One of life’s ironies I guess. This is probably as close as I’ll get to a couch session. Discount therapy for the superhero sidekick. ... I think I’m gonna hang up before I depress myself more.”

**Tenth message, sent April 6th at 7:14pm.**

“Marci forced me to come to dinner with her. ... Well, I say forced, but it was nice. I know she’s worried, which is a hell of a feat. The food was expensive — but the good kind of expensive, not the bad kind. Your super tastebuds would’ve been in raptures, seriously. It was a good distraction from all the brooding I’ve been doing. A step back towards normalcy. Maybe if I think hard enough about that German chocolate cake I’ll dream about something happy tonight.”

**Eleventh message, sent April 14th at 5:01am.**

“The dreams are coming every night now. Good ones, bad ones. They’re all about you. Can’t get you off my mind, Murdock. You’re probably used to affecting people that way, though. I... Ah, jeez. I’m trying to make light of it but. Honestly? It sucks. I haven’t gotten a decent night’s sleep since I don’t even know when. I keep trying to think of anything I could have done, or said, to... It’s been rough, without you.”

**Twelfth message, sent April 18th at 2:46am.**

“This is my life now, Murdock. Leaving voice letters to a fucking ghost and bingeing ice cream at three in the morning. You would hate this shit. It’s got  _ gummy worms _ in it. I bet you’d be able to taste every preservative ever made if you tried this stuff. But that’s what happens when you go and get yourself killed, you don’t get to complain about the offensive taste and smell of my dietary choices anymore.”

**Thirteenth message, sent April 20th at 10:53pm.**

“Karen almost kicked my ass tonight. We were supposed to go out drinking — not to Josie’s, not without you, buddy — but I wanted to get some rest before then and I might have taken slightly more than the recommended dose of sleeping pills. Yeah, I know, I know. But it wasn’t... I wasn’t trying to... Anyway, I guess when I didn’t get up in time Karen broke in — she can pick locks, did you know she could pick locks? — and uh, found me. She ended up calling Claire and it’s only because Claire’s a saint who’s used to dealing with secretive fuckups that I didn’t end up in a hospital suicide watch or something. They did throw out the pills, though, and Karen’s sleeping on my couch — hence the whispering. I don’t wanna wake her up, she looks tired and I... Yeah, wow, do I get that. Here’s hoping neither of us wake each other up with nightmares. ... Night, Matt.”

**Fourteenth message, sent April 25th at 11:49am.**

“Marci and I moved in together. She’s been... Really good, about the dreams. I’m such a mess, she probably shouldn’t waste her time on me, but I’m glad she does. I know the two of you didn’t exactly get along, but being with her is... It makes me happy, and that’s kind of in short supply right now. Maybe things will work out this time. Fingers crossed, right?”

**Fifteenth message, sent April 30th at 4:53pm.**

“They finished digging out Midland Circle today. There was nothing there. Not you or Elektra. In terms of my career and all our former cases, it’s probably good they didn’t find you in that armor, but. I hate that it makes me wonder. If you were alive, you’d have let us know by now, right?”

**Sixteenth message, sent May 2nd at 10:36pm.**

“I miss you, Matt. ... I. I... Yeah, I miss you. That’s all.”

**Seventeenth message, sent May 3rd at 8:00pm.**

“You know that we can’t even have a funeral? Because we can’t explain to anyone how we know you died, and there’s no body. The whole world, or anybody who cares to wonder, thinks you just fucked off somewhere. Isn’t that wild? Isn’t... Today would’ve been a great day for a funeral. It’s actually nice out, starting to get warm. The service would’ve been good. Tasteful. I’ve got money now, you know, I would’ve— I would’ve made sure they put you next to your dad. God, this is macabre. I just... I’m sorry. I just wish I had more closure, that’s all. I’ll... I’ll try to think of something happier to talk about next time.”

**Eighteenth message, sent May 9th at 9:27pm.**

“Brett hasn’t asked about where you are. I think he knows. Normally he’d be the first one to comment because he’s nosy. ... Ok, ok, it’s because he’s a good guy and he cares. But instead he just gives me this look like, I dunno, like he wants to say ‘sorry for your loss’ but knows he can’t because you’re not really considered dead. This is probably the most awkward he’s been around me since, like, sophomore year of high school. It’d almost be funny if not for... Yeah. But maybe it’s entertaining for you at least, who knows.”

**Nineteenth message, sent May 17th at 7:28pm.**

“I’ve gotten myself mixed up with enough superpowered idiots for one lifetime. I blame you. And Claire. But I, uh. I couldn’t exactly say no. Luke’s a good guy. I’m trying to help. But he’s about as stubborn as you, and there’s things he’s dealing with that I... There’s a whole racial aspect to... Well. Everything life is throwing at him, honestly, and I’m. I’m probably floundering. On the bright side, he’s at least got a superpower that keeps him safe from all that shit that kept me up at night with you — the guns, the knives. I guess... I guess we’ll see how it turns out. Wish me luck.”

**Twentieth message, sent May 21st at 3:41pm.**

“I still have the sign. Our sign. You were so proud of that dumb sign, god, if you could’ve seen how stupid the grin on your face was whenever you ran your feelers over it, buddy. Heh. And now here it is, sitting in... Sitting in a cardboard box collecting dust. I saved up for months for this stupid thing, and now I could probably buy fifty of them without making a dent in my money. How fucking ridiculous is that. ... I know I always talked about money, and I’m sure you knew it was partly a joke, but I think maybe it still bothered you a little. You were probably right. All of this— I’d trade it all back in a heartbeat for you, Matt. Always. I hope... I really hope you knew that.”

**Twenty-first message, sent May 28th at 2:33am.**

“I had a dream about the night you almost— When I found out about the mask. But this time Claire didn’t come. It was just me,  _ sitting there _ in a pool of your  _ blood _ , Matt. I couldn’t save you. ... I guess that part’s true enough. The dumbest thing is I woke up happy that what I’d dreamed hadn’t happened. But Claire and I only bought you a few more months, how is that... That’s  _ nothing _ to be happy about. I know there’s nothing I could have done to stop you. Logically, I did the best I could to keep you safe but it wasn’t  _ enough _ and that  _ kills _ me. I wish... Well. I wish a lot of things.”

**Twenty-second message, sent June 1st at 9:42pm.**

“I just wanted to hear your voice again. You know, when we made this I was just messing around. To make you laugh, because I always, I loved the sound of your laugh. I figured you’d delete it the first chance you got. Not very professional, for a voicemail message. Didn’t fit your cool, serious image. I can’t even remember what I said to make you laugh while you were trying to record. ... I’m. I’m glad that you kept it though. So I can still hear—”

There’s a quiet sniff before the message cuts out.

**Twenty-third message, sent June 5th at 7:55pm.**

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, Matt. From the outside it seems like I’m making progress, getting better. Every day I get up and I go to work and I have dinner with Marci and I talk to Karen and my family and... And I do all the things I’m supposed to do. But I’m exhausted. I don’t know how much... How much longer I can keep this up, buddy.”

**Twenty-fourth message, sent yesterday at 5:11am.**

“I had another dream about you. It was— college, freshman year. When you had that dumb scarf, and the sweaters that were too big for you. You laughed. And it was so... It was so happy. You were so  _ happy _ , and I realized I don’t think I ever saw you that happy after the whole, after you started... it makes me wonder how I never realized something was wrong. Just a shitty friend I guess. No wonder you didn’t want me around. God, I... I’m so  _ sorry _ , Matt. I’m so sorry.”

**Final message, sent today at 4:23pm.**

“It’s me again. Of course it is, it’s never anyone else. I haven’t told anyone I’ve been stupid enough to pay your phone bill for the past three months just so I can keep doing this. Leaving messages to the void. Not even Marci knows, so that should please you. I’ve been keeping the phone on me when I go out instead of mine so I’m not tempted to keep calling it, but I always find myself doing it the second I get a chance. Honestly, though, as far as stupid coping mechanisms go this is pretty small peanuts. I’m not the one insisting we keep your apartment off the market. Karen’s too proud to ask Rand to pay rent on your place, but I’m pretty sure he’s slipping her cash through Jones because there’s no other way she’d be able to afford two apartments for this long. She told me yesterday that you’re still out there somewhere. That deep down I believe that too. I don’t know, maybe I do. I gotta... I really gotta stop this. It’s just not healthy. I don’t know why I’ve let it go on so long.” A choked laugh. “No, I do know. You do too, probably. I dream about you every night. I keep leaving these stupid— But I never say what I mean to. I guess I kept it in so long it’s hard to let it out even when you’re not there to hear it. ... You know, I could say this a hundred vague, flowery, deniable ways. And I have, honestly. But I’ve never... If I’m going to let go. I need to... I need... Matt, I love you. I’ve always loved you. I’ll probably love you til I die, which is ridiculous and melodramatic but I’m pretty sure it’s true. It doesn’t really matter now, but I guess someone should know.”

**End of final message. To erase, press 7, to—**

Matt closes out of voicemail and runs a trembling hand over his damp face. Other hand clutching the stolen wallet in his pocket, he takes a deep breath and calls for a cab.


End file.
